


Miranda Vignettes #2

by wheel_pen



Series: Viridian Miranda [6]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fish out of Water, Gen, Imprinting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 07:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two short scenes in which Miranda demonstrates social progress (a little) and saves the ship from a malfunction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miranda Vignettes #2

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Viridians appear human, but are actually aliens who imprint on other people (Viridian or otherwise) and form a bond with them. They also live their entire life cycle in about six Earth years.
> 
> 2\. In each series, a different character is a Viridian, who was raised by mean Klingons on an outpost. An Enterprise crewmember is captured by the Klingons and they inadvertently form a bond with the Viridian, who helps them escape. Then they return to rescue the Viridian and bring them aboard the Enterprise. The Viridian homeworld is contacted and the Enterprise crew learn the Viridian will most likely die if they are sent away. So they end up staying on the Enterprise, and the crewmember has to adjust.
> 
> 3\. The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

T'Pol heard the lift to the Bridge open and close behind her but thought little of it, presuming it was merely a crewmember checking the panels at the back of the Bridge. At least until she saw a certain petite blond march over to the Tactical station and crouch down beside the Chief Engineer, who lay on the floor repairing a power coupling.

"Captain," Miranda stated enigmatically to him.

"Commander Tucker, actually," he corrected absently, more focused on the circuits above his head.

"Miranda, what is your purpose on the Bridge?" T'Pol inquired from the command chair.

She was ignored. " _Where is_ Captain?" Miranda tried again, addressing Trip.

"Um, I think he's in his Ready Room," the engineer answered. "Isn't he, T'Pol?"

"Indeed," the First Officer concurred. "Miranda, do you wish to speak to the Captain?"

There was a long pause, during which Trip was actually able to make some progress on his repairs. Then Miranda stood and stepped towards the Ready Room door.

"Miranda," T'Pol said, a bit sharply. "You will not enter the Captain's Ready Room without permission."

Miranda stopped and stood motionless in front of the door, thinking. If the Captain came out now he'd trip over her. But after due consideration she seemed to accept the restriction—and returned to Trip. "Captain," she repeated to him insistently.

"Look, kiddo," Trip replied with some exasperation. "I'm kinda busy here. Why don't you talk to T'Pol about it?"

Miranda glared at him in his unhelpfulness. "Sticky," she finally judged sullenly.

"Yeah, well, _sticky_ to you, too," Trip shot back.

Finally Miranda stood and faced T'Pol, her intense gaze boring into the Vulcan. Trip wondered idly who would win a staring contest between the two. T'Pol did not seem to find such a competition logical, however, and took the initiative of signaling the Ready Room.

"Captain," she announced, "Miranda is on the Bridge and wishes to speak with you."

" _Send her in_ ," Archer replied. Then, apparently thinking better of being alone in a confined space with the young woman, he corrected quickly, " _Er, actually I'll come out there_."

A moment later Archer appeared, trying not to look _too_ apprehensive. "Miranda," he greeted. "What can I do for you today?"

She stood directly in front of him, practically on his toes, and held a data pad up before him. "From Malcolm," she pointed out.

Archer took the data pad, stepped deftly to the side, and surveyed the contents of the screen. "Oh, right, Mr. Reed's security protocol updates," he commented. "Tell him I'll look these over and get back to him." He started to retreat back to his Ready Room.

Miranda blocked his path, frowning. T'Pol watched alertly from the command chair, in case she needed to summon the Tactical Officer to deal with her. "Malcolm made," she pointed out, indicating the data pad.

"Er, yes," Archer agreed helplessly. "Thank you for delivering it."

"It's shiny," she persisted, frown deepening.

"Um," Archer replied, not comprehending.

"Shiny means good," Trip offered from the floor.

"Oh. Right," the Captain added quickly. "I'm sure Lt. Reed's work is very good." Miranda's frown lessened but didn't disappear entirely. Struggling, Archer glanced at the screen again, searching for inspiration. "I mean, the, uh, _font_ he's chosen here is just very… authoritative."

Trip choked on a snicker from beneath the console, but Miranda finally seemed satisfied. "Okay. Good-bye," she chirped, striding off the Bridge.

Archer stared after her. "Wow, she said good-bye," he remarked, somewhat surprised.

"Yeah, she's gettin' better," Trip agreed.

 

***

 

Poke, poke. Wake up, Malcolm.

The tactical officer blinked his eyes open into the darkness of his cabin, consciousness slowly returning. It wasn't time to get up for the day. No alarms were blaring, no message lights blinking. "What?" he asked his bedmate groggily.

Music! Beautiful music!

"What?" he repeated, even more confused.

Miranda cuddled closer to him and opened her mind further, until Malcolm could hear what she heard—a simple but sweet tune resonating through the air. He was certain he couldn't hear it on his own.

"What is that?" he asked her, bemused. "Where's it coming from?"

The ship, of course! "The ship is singing!"

Malcolm kissed her forehead sleepily, wished her to enjoy her music, and settled back down for the rest of the night. A moment later, however, his eyes popped open again.

Miranda heard things differently than most people did. The tinny bleat of the whistle Trip had made her, for example, sounded in _her_ head like a bright and pleasant chord. So if Miranda heard something that sounded like music—perhaps it was really a noise to be investigated.

"Miranda. Where is the music coming from? Above, below? The outer hull, the hallway?"

She sensed his concern. Was the music bad? Was she bad to hear it?

"No, of course not. Just answer me."

She focused on the sound in her mind, in the cabin. Below, and out in the hall, possibly.

Malcolm rolled quickly out of bed, grabbing a shirt and some shoes. "Come on, get up." He handed Miranda similar hasty attire, knowing she would wander out of the cabin in just her underwear otherwise. "Let's find the source of that music."

But Malcolm wanted to stop the music! And it was so beautiful…

"I just want to see what's making it, that's all," he assured her, heading for the lift. "If there's nothing wrong I'll leave it alone."

They exited on the next deck down. Malcolm heard nothing, but the music was even louder to Miranda. And more beautiful, more complex, with subtleties she hadn't heard before.

"I'm glad you enjoy it, but we need to know where it's coming from," Malcolm repeated as they wandered down the corridor. It was a shame most "normal" music sounded like a piercing cacophony to Miranda, he reflected; she would probably have quite enjoyed some of the classical symphonic composers from Earth otherwise. But that sort of music had always put Malcolm to sleep, unfortunately, so she couldn't even appreciate it through _his_ mind.

They rounded a corner, having passed hardly any crewmembers at all. The only thing ahead was one of the docking ports. Malcolm still heard nothing but Miranda rushed to the dead end joyously, the music enveloping her.

Finally Malcolm heard—a hiss? It was quite faint, barely distinguishable above the white noise from the rest of the ship. He crouched down near the airlock door, listening while Miranda swayed and twirled behind him. Yes, there it was—a hiss of air from a seal that was supposed to be tight.

Malcolm stood and hit the comm panel. "Lt. Reed to Commander Tucker." He had to repeat himself a couple times before he got a hazy reply from his awakened friend. "I think there's a problem with the starboard docking port," Malcolm continued. He didn't let any apology creep into his voice—there would be time for that later, if this were nothing. "Can you come down and take a look?"

" _On my way_ ," Trip agreed, or at least that was what Malcolm assumed he'd said around a huge yawn.

The Chief Engineer appeared a few minutes later, in uniform but sloppily so, hair uncombed and eyes drooping shut. He barely even gave a second glance to the dancing Miranda. "What's up?"

"Well, the diagnostics I've been running don't say there's anything wrong," Malcolm admitted, "but…" He crouched down by the affected seal and Trip did the same. They were both quiet for a moment.

"There's a hiss," Trip finally announced, affronted by this flaw in the ship's operation.

"There's a hiss," Malcolm agreed.

Trip grabbed his ever-present toolbox and began attacking the problem. Malcolm waited patiently for a few minutes as the engineer completed his investigation. "Well?"

"Rupture in the sealing mechanism," Trip reported, shaking his head. "I'm not surprised the computer didn't catch it, it's so small, but—" He gave a low whistle. "Next time we tried to use this thing the pressure differential would've popped the other ship right off."

"Not the best way to welcome your guests," Malcolm remarked dryly.

"No, but there's some I wouldn't have minded doin' it to," Trip smirked. "How'd you catch this anyway?" he added, applying his hypospanner to the problem.

"Miranda heard it."

Trip gave him a look and Malcolm shrugged as if to say he didn't fully understand it himself. "Well, that should just about—"

Miranda let out a pained gasp behind them. "The music! The music is gone!" Her eyes narrowed on Trip with the tool in his hand and Malcolm scrambled to intercept her.

"The music indicated a hole in the ship," he tried to explain, conjuring an image of a docking ship being summarily blasted away when the malfunctioning door was opened. "But now it's fixed. Your music helped us to repair a problem."

"But the music is _gone_ ," she repeated sorrowfully.

Malcolm felt her disappointment. Literally, he did. But she had to feel _his_ sense of accomplishment, that they'd solved a problem before it could hurt anyone. Somehow he suspected she'd really rather have the music back.

"Okay," Miranda finally sighed, with heavy resignation. "No more music."

Trip clambered back up from the floor, his task complete. "I think she's sealed up now, but I'm gonna have my people do a full check in the morning," he promised Malcolm. "Good job there, Randi Sue," he added to Miranda, trying to cheer her up. "Who'da thought you could hear something like that from so far away, huh?" She twisted her lips in an odd expression that he couldn't interpret.

"Perhaps you can get your whistle out tomorrow and make some new music," Malcolm offered solicitously, and Miranda finally perked up a bit. The whistle was only let out on special occasions. The Armory Officer slid a sideways glance at his friend. "Perhaps Commander Tucker would enjoy hearing it again."

"Hey now!" Trip protested indignantly.


End file.
